


a lament-heaven of disordered stars, this one so loved

by get_thee_to_a_patisserie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Force Bond (Star Wars), I intend to burn this disgrace of an ending with all the love and good I can muster, Post-Canon, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Rey Palpatine is not a thing here, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Fix-It, Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker Spoilers, get ready for copious amounts of hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21986968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/get_thee_to_a_patisserie/pseuds/get_thee_to_a_patisserie
Summary: It starts to feel like hanging somewhere halfway between life and death, and she begins to wonder if this limbo is to consume the rest of her days when, one night, the dream changes.Something like hope begins to grow within her chest.---Rey grieves, waiting alone in the desert once more. But the Force works in mysterious ways, and a dyad was never meant to be split forever.[or: the Skywalker actually rises in this one, and these two get a happy ending]
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 17
Kudos: 138
Collections: Indescribably Delicious Fanfiction





	1. desiderium

_**desiderium** \- des·i·de·ri·um | \ _ ˌ _desə_ ˈ _dirēəm, -ezə- \_

_an ardent desire or longing; especially_ **_:_ ** _a feeling of loss or grief for something lost._

* * *

“Be with me. Be with me. _Please_.”

The air is so still around her, the burning sky so familiar in its indifference. None of it matters in that moment, as Rey lifts her hand upwards, outwards, repeating the words as if they are all she has left.

She waits, and she waits, and she _waits_.

But there is no hand reaching back towards her outstretched one. There is nothing solid within her grasp. Her empty hand falls to her lap once more, somehow still cold in the dry heat.

She’s not furiously scrubbing scrap parts on Jakku anymore, but sometimes it feels like she had never left. If she closes her eyes, the same burning sun beating down her back, she feels herself become that lost child once more, etching harsh white lines upon a wall from sheer muscle memory, though no longer certain of what she is waiting for.

Gathering up her meager possessions, she sets off to trek through the sand dunes once more. As she crosses the threshold of the borrowed home, she sees the glint of the Skywalker lightsabers, sitting untouched in the corner. They still feel like a stolen legacy, like some old relic she has unearthed from the ruins she used to traverse. And though she could tear them apart, give them away, no decision feels like it is her right to make, so she continues to pass by them day after day.

Her comm flashes, distracting her for a moment. Another message from Finn. He often leaves updates to tell her of the rebuilding efforts, pride in his voice leaking through at the progress made by everyone, but always finishes off with a quiet message, just from him to her. _Rey? We miss you. You should come home._

She always shuts them off at that. Guilt gnaws at her each time, but the thought of returning to the celebrations, the cacophony of joy she remembers hours after watching Ben—

That’s not part of her story, at least not now. Loneliness creeps around her once more, like a parasite. The cavernous wound inside her demands it. So she willingly wears it as a second skin, as some bitter penance, and a thought continues to ring through her head like mourning bells. _I couldn’t save you as you saved me._

She had thought that she would find answers here, but all she’s found are ghosts.

———

She never told anyone where she was going, slinking away quietly after reuniting with the Resistance. She had noticed Finn’s eyes following her, with something she had been too dazed to understand in his gaze, but she fled regardless. And as she sat in the cockpit, BB-8 whirring about behind her, she had closed her eyes, weariness settling around her once more. Jakku, Ahch-To, there were so many graveyards she could have gone to, but she chose one yet unknown to her. Where she may find answers.

As they shifted into hyperspace, the stars had blinked by behind her, moonlit and desolate. Perhaps out of habit or exhaustion, she had focused inward once more, seeking out the dulcet, vivid bond that had given her such comfort even when she hadn’t wanted it.

Ever since Takodana, there had been something like a thread connected to her, spun like fine silk, so delicate at times that she could barely sense it. But it had always been there, as if humming a low melody to her, to remind her that she need not be alone again.

So when she had reached for it again, and was greeted by only a gaping void, she had almost reeled back in horror, before remembering. Exegol. Palpatine. The price to pay for such a sacrifice. She had never felt so cold before.

It was almost a relief when they finally left hyperspace. Upon reaching Tatooine, it had felt like she had gone back in time. Before all this, before a battle in a shadowed, snowy forest, before anyone had ever returned for her, before she had any idea that any possibility existed beyond the searing sands shifting around her.

But Rey was a creature of worn practicality, and only the dead remain still in the desert, so she had gathered her things and ushered BB-8 along down the ship ramp.

Stumbling upon the old Skywalker home was more accident than intention, but Rey has long since stopped questioning the path her feet take her to. This place would do as well as any.

———

Her routine is simple, as it was before. The days are long, but she strikes down each hour with a practiced hand, finding something to busy herself with.

BB-8 manages to bend his antenna again. ( _didn’t I tell you to stop barreling into that Japor tree?_ )

Her staff no longer feels like her third arm. ( _Practice, until it does again. You survived the worst of Jakku before even learning of the Force_ )

Her food supply runs low. ( _Hungry little orphan girl, what will you do for these scraps today?_ )

The days are long, but they are manageable enough in time. They are never so terrible as the nights. When the planet is too quiet, when all the light has faded with dusk, when there is nothing more left to guard her from her thoughts.

She dons Ben’s shirt, and curls up in the corner of the bed, face pressed to the soft, worn cloth. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but it does eventually grant her a temporary respite, whisking her far from her surroundings.

The dreams always begin like this:

She is cast into life once more, lungs inhaling greedily, as he holds her, hands curled around her like something precious. There are brief flashes of light illuminating his face, but the thunder is quiet to her in this moment. There will be time enough to remember she had just risen from death, but he is looking at her with wonder, and they are both alive, and there is no choice, no thought, but to surge forward and kiss him. She pours everything she can not yet say into it. The bond flows around them both, slipping between their ribs, caressing gently, it feels like a symphony, like home, and belonging. _You came back, you saved me, I love you, I love you, I love you—_

“Ben?”

A breath, a moment later, he is falling backwards. Lying prone on the ground, he fades beneath her hands. She slowly begins to hear a wailing sound in the distance, terrible in its grief, before realizing it is her own cry waking her.

She lies there in the darkness afterwards, listening to her breath slow once more as the seconds tick on. Her hand, seemingly of its own accord, moves across the empty space next to her on the bed.

No, she thinks, the days are never quite as long as the nights.

———

It starts to feel like hanging somewhere halfway between life and death, and she begins to wonder if this limbo is to consume the rest of her days when, one night, the dream changes. The Sith temple is gone, replaced by a realm unknown to her. Her surroundings are shadowed and hazy, with mere scatterings of faint light beneath her feet to guide her through the darkness.

For a moment she’s furious, white-hot rage thrumming under her skin. Dreams had been her only chance at seeing him once more. Even with the cost it came with, how dare anyone, anything, take him from her _again_.

Her thoughts are interrupted when a cacophony of distant voices suddenly erupt, ethereal, disjointed, and overlapping.

_“No one’s ever really gone.”_

_“Hope lives in the galaxy.”_

_“I’ll help you.”_

_“The force will be with you, always.”_

And then, faint but certain, in the distance:

_“I’ll come back…”_

The timbre, the low, caressing sound, was unmistakeable. Her heart pounds as she whirls around, eyes wide and searching. “Where?” she calls out, “Ben, where are you?” But her surrounding are already fading, slipping from her grasp, when she hears him once again:

_“I’ll come back for you, sweetheart.”_

She wakes with a gasp, heart still beating madly. Slowly she becomes aware of BB-8 asking her something at the foot of the bed.

“I heard them. I heard him. That place was trying to show me something,” she replies, scrambling off towards the pile of books across the room. Already the stark clearness of the vision is fading from her memories, and she seizes the one atop the others, flipping through the pages with haste. Finally finding the desired passage, her fingers trace over the words. _A collection of pathways, a place beyond time and space, a world between worlds._

Something like hope begins to grow within her chest.

———

More days pass and she scours every bit of reading she can get her hands on. Mere glimpses of that realm reappear to her on certain nights. And eventually, she knows what she has to do.

But first she calls Finn.

“I think I’m about to try something a little insane.” Perhaps not the best way to start, but she’s feeling rather inpatient at the moment.

“Rey, it’s been _months_! Where are you? And what do you mean something insane?”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been there. I miss you all too. But Finn…”

“Whatever it is, I’m not going to be able to stop you, am I?”

“No.”

He sighs, “C’mon then, let’s hear it.”

And so she tells him. Not everything, but enough. Of her dreams, of the passages, of her admittedly half-baked theory.

Finn is quiet for a moment. “Do you know how this all even works?”

“Not completely,” she admits. “But I think it’s at least time to listen. To what the Force is trying to lead me to.”

“You’ve shut yourself off from it?”

“No, not exactly. Not like Luke did. It’s… hard to explain, but I haven’t felt connected to it in the way I used to. It’s like there’s a glass wall between us. I could catch glimpses of something, but I couldn’t feel it. Or I wouldn't let myself feel it.”

“Do you think it’ll be enough?”

“I have to at least try.”

“I still don’t really understand all of this, but if you need to do this, I’ll help however I can.”

“Thank you, for standing by me.”

“Of course. And Rey?”

“Hm?”

“May the Force be with you.”

She almost smiles at that. “You still sound ridiculous.”

“Come back and tell me about it.“

She bids him farewell and pockets the comm. A slight breeze passes around her as she looks out towards the sunset. There, off in the distance, something catches her eye. It is little more than a shadow, doused in the soft, scarlet light covering the land. Something inside her compels her to follow it, but as she blinks, it vanishes, leaving nothing but the wind scattering and resettling the sand once more. Resolve burrows through her. _I’m coming to you._

She closes her eyes and listens. All is muted at first, but ever so slowly, the Force begins to whisper back like a half-forgotten melody.

———

She feels something call out to her, as it did all that time ago in Maz Kanata’s tavern, guiding her steps back towards Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber. Her fingers brush over the metal hilt and she is suddenly thrust into darkness again.

She is back in that dream-like realm, surrounded by infinite paths winding about her. Again she wanders, hearing voices flit by her, familiar and unknown. Even her own voice echoes back to her at times.

Uncertain of just how much time has passed, she calls out, “Please, show me where to go. How do I bring him back?”

The voices finally quiet. Only her breath makes a sound in the darkness. She starts to speak again, when suddenly:

“I was wondering when you would find your way here.”

A sandy haired man emerges from the shadows. Broad-shouldered, his stride certain and devastatingly familiar, her breath catches. _So like Ben_ , she thinks.

“You… are you… Anakin Skywalker?”

There’s a wry grin on his face as he answers, “Good to know I’m still well-known.”

“I don’t understand, how are you here?”

He shrugs, something boyish in the gesture, “Master Yoda would be better equipped to tell you than I. Perhaps the force even wills it so.” His expression turns serious then, his voice lower, heavy with regret, “I can only tell you that I watched my grandson suffer much through his young life. I wasn’t able to help him before, I wasn’t able to reach him, when he needed me. But even still, he was able to do what I could not.”

“What was that?”

He gives a slight, rueful smile. “Save the woman he loves.”

Her throat suddenly feels very tight. “Loves?”

“Love doesn’t end with death, Rey,” he says gently. “He was able to reach you beyond death’s grasp, was he not? And you answered.”

“So if I call to him, he can come back?“

“There’s a bit more to it than that, but the theory of it all isn’t important. Open yourself to the Force. Let it guide you forward towards what you seek.”

“I didn’t even think…this could be possible.”

His answering smile appears almost conspiratorial, “Let’s just say I may be breaking some rules. Obi-Wan is likely to have a fit. But it’s my hope that this will begin to make things right. So reach out. I’ll help you.”

“We all will,” A petite, brunette woman steps forward, taking Anakin’s hand.

Rey looks around as others begin to appear around them. Leia, Han, Luke. And still others, cloaked in muted brown robes, in opulent silks, in faded shawls, faces unknown to her, but kind.

“Don’t keep us in suspense, kid.”

“You’ve come this far. We won’t abandon you both now.”

“I…” She is overwhelmed, uncertain, afraid. _If I fail them, if I fail him—_

Leia steps towards her, taking Rey in her arms. She allows herself to hold fast to her, eyes stinging sharply. Quietly, Leia says to her, “We have everything we need. He’s waiting for you.” She pulls back then, smiling at the young woman before her.

“Reach out, Rey.” Finally, she closes her eyes.

She holds out her hand, so desperately frightened to even hope. She feels the Force, the strength from all those surrounding her, like a light guiding her forward. Her breath is a quiet whisper in the darkness, her fingers trembling, reaching—

Be with me, be with me, _be with me_.

A hand closes around hers once more, solid, warm, and so, so _alive_.


	2. anodos

**ᾰ̓́** _ **νοδος** \- (_ _ánodos_ _) |_

_way up, ascent, climb_

* * *

So, this is death.

He doesn’t feel quite solid anymore, his limbs almost weightless as he moves them. As though a breeze could disperse him completely. It feels _wrong_ somehow. Though it is admittedly preferable to the jagged, broken bones he had felt pressing into him as he had dragged himself through that Sith temple.

Part of him is unsurprised things ended this way. It had always felt like he had one foot already in his grave, and each step he took was marked by the inevitability of his choices leading him back. A certainty had chased him through his short life, a fear that had seized him from sleep so many nights, as the voices had whispered in his ear in their terrible cacophony.

Now, at its end, he is only glad that he was able to give Rey a chance. He remembers that assuredly ridiculous grin slipping from his face, the concern and rising panic in Rey’s eyes, her hands reaching for him as he felt himself falling. Only dark stillness had greeted him then until he found himself awoken here. He wonders where she is now. He hopes she’s with her friends, building something better for herself. After all this, he could content himself with the knowledge that _something_ good came of it.

Ben looks up, watching the spiraling paths winding far above his head. He has certainly never seen such a place before, but there is something about the faint, disjointed voices echoing across this dark realm that tugs at his memory. He remembers something, in the obscure passages of the texts he had studied as a Jedi apprentice, mentioning a realm not dissimilar to the one he is standing in.

As he begins to explore, he notices some of the corridors seem to lead to some kind of portals, each initially indistinguishable from the other. Before he can investigate further, he hears footsteps behind him and turns. A blonde man approaches him, donned in dark apparel, with a slight scar cutting across his brow and something sorrowful in his form. Recognition flits through him as his presence grows stronger. Anakin Skywalker. The grandfather he had pleaded to for guidance, for purpose.

They regard each other for a moment and Anakin’s eyes hold a fondness he didn’t expect.

“Hello, Ben. I’ve been waiting a long time to speak to you.”

For a moment, he can’t think of what he should say. So many thoughts flit through his head, and ultimately he settles on the first. “I— thought I had been speaking to you all this time. But it was just one of his—Snoke’s, Palpatine’s— illusions in the end.”

A shadow crosses Anakin’s face, something harrowingly familiar to him. “Yes, it was. What they did to you Ben… I’m so sorry. I remember, how easy it was to turn when he had been quietly guiding me along for so many years, when he had dangled something I desperately wanted as the final prize. But you...you were just a child.“

He remembers then, a tragedy so mirrored by his own life, misshapen, bent, willed to be this way from childhood. His father’s fierce whispers in the other room. _What if this is a part of him he can’t escape, Leia? Something from blood._ His mother’s eyes, so like his own, filled with doubt and worry, as she looked back at him for the last time.

“I think everyone had always assumed I would become like you. And when I started hearing your voice, it seemed almost fitting at that point.” To don a legacy he had thought to be passed down to him, to hide his face from the galaxy with a mask, it had made it all easier. Never quite right, never like belonging, but easier.

“You were different. You were _better._ ”

Ben looks down at his hands, ungloved, pale. Was he? He certainly had enough blood on these hands to think differently.

“I wanted to finish what you started. It was the only thing that I was suited to then, and I believed it.”

Anakin looks at him steadily. “And yet you told me you still felt that pull to the light. You would never have felt the conflict, the pain that you did, if it had sat easily with you.” He wants to scoff at the words, to shrug them off, undeserved as he still feels them to be, but he can’t manage to. Like a child still grasping for words of affection, of reassurance, he hesitates and looks up again.

“I don’t know what to do anymore,” he finally admits quietly.

“I didn’t either. You will though.” The certainty in Anakin’s voice extends some thread of strength to him. All this time, he had been kneeling before a battered mask, desperate for guidance, and yet these few words from the man himself were enough to bolster him. He’s not sure whether to laugh or yell.

Somehow he manages to summon whatever was left of the Organa decorum his mother had managed to instill in him, and does neither, only nodding stiffly. Anakin’s gaze is still fond, though somewhat more melancholy at the sight, before looking past his shoulder. Ben turns, following his sightline, wondering what has caught his attention.

Some distance away, he sees one of the portals he had noticed earlier, newly illuminated. There are figures inside speaking, seemingly unaware of them watching. Their voices are muffled, the image hazy, as if being watched through foggy transparisteel, but he recognizes them all the same. His father, younger than he could ever remember him being, something nervous in his stance as he stands next to his mother. She sits, holding a baby in her arms, smoothing down the wisps of black hair on his head.

“He’s not going to bite, you know. No teeth yet.”

“No, but I definitely will drop him. Something tells me he won’t like that.”

She sighs, exasperated. Apparently realizing diplomatic tactics were of no use here, she rises and unceremoniously plops the child into Han’s arms. His eyes reveal outright panic, though his arms close around the bundle immediately. She grins then, looking back down at the infant.

“There now. Ben, would you believe this man is a war hero? If I hadn’t been there myself, I would have my doubts.”

Han scoffs, limbs finally relaxing as he looks down at his son. Something he sees seems to make him smile. “She’s relentless, huh?” he whispers to the sleeping boy. “Wait until I tell you about how I rescued her from those Empire rats.”

“Funny, I remember things a little differently.” she remarks, dryly.

“Well that door didn’t open itself, did it?”

“I told you I had it handled—“

The back and forth continues at low tones, somehow fond despite themselves, as their son sleeps on in his father’s arms.

The vision slowly fades back to glimmering black. _Come back_ , he almost says, foolishly. His throat feels tight. There had been moments like this, hadn’t there, locked away somewhere in his head. Had he cast them aside, he wonders, or had they been taken along with the quiet. Anakin rests a hand on his shoulder, the weight grounding him.

“The dark side always lies. It feeds on pain, anger—after all, those are so easy to reach, and in return it will lend you strength, for a time. But it takes so much more than it ever gives. It tries to make you forget the good.” He nods at the darkened portal they had been watching. “Don’t let it. You may not wish to see some of the things that appear before you in this place, but remember that.”

And with that he lets him go.

———

Something foreboding swirls in the atmosphere as he makes his way through the first corridor. The space is dimly lit with a dark grayish blue hue, the air cold and lifeless. Part of him wants to turn back, to run far from this place. But something holds him back, some knowledge that he can no longer keep running. Whatever awaits him, he knows he has to face it before he has any chance.

A harsh sound echoes with his every step, quieting his apprehension, until he eventually nears a throne.

On it sits… himself. Clad in his previous cloaked black uniform and the mask he remembers wearing so recently, devoid of the cracked lines. He is flanked by his former knights, all standing tall around him as they had in life. They all remain completely still, like a halted nightmare moments before waking.

“What is this?” Ben asks, startled. The sight before him so resembles the visions he had seen night after night. Only Rey is not here to complete the set, and for once he is glad for it. He remembers how brightly she had beamed at him, whispering his name with joy. The memory burns bright against the shades surrounding him.

“Don’t you recognize yourself?” The voice modulator sounds harsher from this side, more machine than human. Somehow, without realizing it, he has approached even closer.

“I’m not you anymore.”

“You think so?” He stands then, walking towards him. “I am the truest form you ever allowed yourself to be. It was this place that you saw in your dreams, even as a child. The dark is where you’ve always belonged.”

“I never belonged there. And I made my way back.”

His double tilts his head so slightly. “You think you’ve cast aside the darkness?”

His old lightsaber ignites before him with a shriek. The unstable sparks gleam terribly bright. His body thrums with anticipation and his hand moves upwards, as if to call the saber back to him. The motion is practiced, natural in a way that almost frightens him now.

His double stares back, motionless and seemingly impassive, but he can hear the satisfaction in his voice when he speaks, “You know why you can never go home again.”

The blade lifts and arcs towards him, suddenly startling him out of his dazed state. He’s not exactly sure what the rules are in this place (certainly one couldn’t die again in a realm seated between life and death, could they?), but getting impaled with this saber once was quite sufficient in his opinion, and he ducks out of its way. He throws an arm out, willing them all to vanish, to return to the graves he had once cast them into.

As he weaves his way through the shrouded space, his surroundings start to tilt, the shadows swirling about in a chaotic fashion. When they eventually settle, the mist clearing, he finds himself in a different corridor. He is alone once more, no guide to carry him through, so he moves onward.

———

It is the color that initially grabs his attention. The walls of this place are a familiar crimson. Dread begins to pool in his stomach at the sight of it. He remembers seeing this room for the first time, still so terribly young but with Snoke’s snarled hands already sinking deep into his head. He had thought this place to be blown to space dust, and yet he finds himself trapped within it once more.

“Foolish child.”

Ice fills his veins as he hears his former master’s voice echo through the cavern. It is so familiar to him, so carved into the deep recesses of his mind, molding him into the shape of the creature he had just escaped.

“I was the only one to listen to all your troubles, to hear of your loneliness. Your father, your mother, your uncle, all of them shut you away, abandoned you. Such a difficult child, always in a rage about something. You told me yourself of the things you would hear them say.”

Snoke’s words are a familiar poison trickling down his ears, and he appears to still be able to wield it like a knife. “I have seen every bit of your pain, boy. Your parents looked upon you with fear. Your uncle was prepared to kill you in your sleep. When all turned their backs on you, it was I who welcomed you.”

He feels his hand form a fist, nails biting into the flesh. It is less effective than in life, but the dull echo of pain brings a sort of clarity to him. He remembers his father’s hand tracing a ghost of a scar upon his face. The forgiveness in his gaze, however unworthy of it he had felt.

“You were nothing but a puppet yourself. And I struck you down.”

Snoke laughs harshly at that. “Still you feel that doubt, that fear. I sense it in you.” The shadows around them seem to grow in strength, flicking towards them, ever ravenous. “You could have succeeded your grandfather, to accomplish what he could not.”

“That was the legacy you sought to give me. It was an empty one.”

Snokes eyes narrow. “Still running from your destiny like a child? Enough of this. The Jedi, the light, it has done nothing for you, it has only taken.” He gestures him forward, certain as he had been moments before death. “Come back to where you belong, Kylo Ren.”

“My name is Ben Solo.”

_I have cast this creature aside once_ , he thinks. _I can do it again. I can do it for good._

He was nothing, a mere malformed puppet who thought himself something great and terrible, borne on the back of his suffering. So he banishes him, like a gruesome nightmare, and watches his form fade before him. He feels somewhat more solid, if that is even possible. Something faint, pulsing beneath his phantom skin, like a thrumming reminder of life.

When there is nothing of Snoke remaining, he turns his back on the dissolving shadows around him, and continues on.

———

Anakin is waiting for him once he crosses through the corridor, returning to the labyrinthine paths. His convenient timing would be commendable, he thinks, if it weren’t also a bit too late.

“Is this to be my punishment then?” Ben asks blankly.

Anakin gives a humorless smile at that. “I never enjoyed that part either.”

“You saw them as well?”

“My ghosts were a little different, but in the end, that’s all they are. You give them the power to haunt you and you have the choice to move past them. What you’re doing--it’s not easy, Ben. And it’s not finished. But it’s necessary to have any chance at moving forward.”

Ben eventually gives a slight, begrudging nod at that.But as he steps past Anakin, something inside him sparks, flaring with life for a moment, tugging at him like a thread tied to his ribs. He starts in surprise at the sensation. He hasn’t felt anything like this since that final moment before his death, when everything had felt peaceful and right for the first time in so long. It comforts him briefly, something warm swirling around him. Then, in sudden realization, his heart seizes with fear. That couldn’t mean—

“Why is Rey here?”

Anakin appears confused for a moment. “What do you mean?”

“I haven’t felt her since I arrived here. It was like there was some wall between us that even the bond couldn’t break through. But I sensed her just now.”

His face morphs to understanding, concern touching his features. “Give me a moment.”

He tries to stem the panic rising within him as he leaves. His mind keeps running in a loop around the same thoughts. What had happened? Why did he feel that sharp pull, taut with grief that was not wholly his own?

Eventually, though it seems like years have passed, Anakin returns.

“Well?”

He smiles reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Ben. She’s alright.”

“…that’s _it?_ I... I shouldn’t be able to feel her here, so then why—”

“There’s not much information on force dyads, you two have been sketching out uncharted territory. But if I had to guess, it’s likely that she wanted to reach you, more than anything. It takes a particular kind of strength for the living to reach this place, but it also requires a desire or purpose that is fierce enough to cross the boundaries between worlds.”

His head falls. As the fear bleeds out of him, the ache of missing her, the guilt at leaving her behind, everything rushes back to fill its place. It had been bad enough when it had only been his pain, but knowing that she is still there, waiting for him— “She shouldn’t waste her life on me.”

Anakin remains quiet for a moment, and his voice is gentle when he finally responds. “I know you don’t think you’re worthy of it—believe me, I understand. But don’t sell yourself short, Ben.”

He looks up at that, hesitant, always hesitant. It had been so much easier bearing monstrous epithets than hearing things like this.

“She seems like the type to hold onto who truly matters.”

Ben ducks his head, cheeks suddenly warm, and hastens to the next path lit in front of him.

Rey had wanted to see him, perhaps as much as he wanted to see her, if his grandfather’s evaluation was correct. He whispers a promise then, just for her. If there is a way out for him, if he even deserves the chance to do it, he’ll come back for her.

Anakin watches his grandson from a distance, and his heart twinges at the sight. _Like us, Padmé_. He still remembers watching a procession march her away, swathed in blue silks, still and empty. The feeling of her hand within his still etched into his skin, no matter how many years had passed.

And he watches this boy, so like him. Never even given a chance that he had, but still able to do what he could not. He thinks of Rey, alone, trapped in that desert he had fought so desperately to escape, waiting for Ben. A plan formulates in his mind. He can almost hear the displeased words Obi-Wan will have with him, but what else was new.

Ben looks back at him curiously then, noticing his gaze, but Anakin shakes his head, gesturing him to go ahead. He relents eventually and proceeds to the next corridor, and Anakin sets off, mission in mind.

———

Ben enters a cavern, gnarled roots twined on the walls, the air damp and almost alive in a way the other places had not been. It is then that he senses the other presence near him, prickling at him, leaving him unsettled in a way he had not expected. But then he never had felt comfortable in the presence of his uncle since he had held a lightsaber above his head, poised to strike him down.

Luke remains silent, seemingly content to let him speak first.

“I didn’t expect to see you again.”

“I did say you would.”

He turns around to look at him then. “Yes, and then you gave up your life. And for what? You seemed quite certain that I wouldn’t have the strength to crush the Resistance.”

“Giving myself up was of little importance to me by then. It was necessary for you, for the galaxy.”

“A necessary sacrifice,” he scoffs. “Is that what I became? What Rey became? On Exegol?”

“Palpatine had to be stopped. But we never wanted either of you to be the casualties it brought.”

“You were happy enough to let her die though, weren’t you? Once she fulfilled her purpose of eradicating that old husk, she meant nothing to you.” The old anger rushes back in an instant, with such familiarity.

“Ben—”

“When I finally made my way out of that blasted hole, I found her lying there, alone. Abandoned again.”

He had held her motionless form, the warmth already seeping from her skin, and looked around with a childlike desperation, absurdly hopeful for a second that someone, anyone, would come. Snoke would have laughed, should he have seen him then. _Didn’t I tell you, you were nothing to them?_ So he had cradled her close for the first time, for the last time, and given her the only thing he had left to give.

“I knew what I had to do. You and your sanctimonious order had led us to the slaughter, but I could still give her a chance.”

“I am sorry, Ben.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are. It couldn’t have been a pleasant discovery to find us reunited again so soon.”

The snide, cutting words stoke his temper in an almost comforting manner. Somehow though, it is marred by the expression on his uncle’s face. Luke looks worn again, the years ever more visible on him. “No, I hadn’t expected to see you until much later. You were still so young. I thought perhaps in time, you would come to see—”

“What are you looking for?” Ben interrupts. “My forgiveness?”

“No. How could I ask that of you? I promised your mother that I would look after you. Protect you from the darkness that we both sensed trying to take you. I failed you. My sister’s son. My family. It will always be my greatest shame.” His voice sounds wretched, something he has never heard before.

Ben hesitates, unsettled and unsure of what to do next. He had never expected his uncle to ever say more on the matter. His apparent indifference from before had been such a simpler target for his anger. “Then why are you here?”

“Because you deserved to know, at least once.”

This man, this mythic figure, before him had been the target of his rage for so long. But if he wanted to be truly honest with himself, it had been more. The whole of it, the marring curse of this bloodline and its power that had been lusted after by monstrous shadows, had followed them both, right to this moment. The thought of forgiveness still holds a bitter taste, but he wonders if this now, all this, is the first chance they have had at moving forward.

“I suppose I do now,” he relents, haltingly.

Luke sighs, something like relief lifting the weight of it.

_I was the worst of you_ , he thinks, _why do you even care?_ Leia, Han, Luke—saviors of the galaxy, righteous, powerful, always to be remembered as heroes. _I was your rage, your spite, your fear. What did you expect?_

He looks at him knowingly. “You are the best of us too.” Luke gives him a quiet smile then, so like those bestowed to him years ago. “I’ll see you around, Ben.”

He feels his surroundings fade and morph around him, as his uncle vanishes from his sight.

———

He is circling the path before the next corridor that seeks his attention when his grandfather finds him again. He knows who waits beyond this one, the feeling so familiar and ingrained, but it also holds him fast to this spot.

“Nervous?”

Ben looks up, startled. He stops his pacing and they remain there for a time until he breaks the silence with a question that has become ever lingering in his head.

“Do you think there’s any way back from it?”

“From what?”

“The things we’ve done.”

Anakin considers his words, looking off amongst the lined paths around him. He wonders what his grandfather sees amongst those onyx rimmed doors.

“Some believe so. I wish I had a better answer for you myself, but… I wonder if _I_ even know now, after all this time.” He looks back at Ben, smiling slightly. “Perhaps you’ll be able to tell me one day.”

He frowns slightly, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“You still have a chance, Ben. At going back, if you wish it.”

His eyes widen. “Is that possible? How?”

His smile is almost conspiratorial now. “Let’s just say I never cared much for following the rules.”

A thrumming beat of possibility runs through him. _Could I_ , he wonders, _could I have such a chance_.

“It’s your choice to make, when you’re ready. But in the meantime…” He nods towards the bright corridor. “Your mother’s expecting you.”

He fidgets, legs suddenly stiff as he remembers. “She won’t want to see me.”

“You’re her son, Ben. And believe me, if she allowed me to see her, you have nothing to fear.” Suddenly something seems to grab his attention, and he looks up, turning to go.

“Where are you heading off to?” Ben asks.

“We have a guest.”

“Someone important I take it?”

His grandfather smiles enigmatically. “Someone we’ve been expecting.” And with that, he walks off into the shadows leaving Ben in front of the corridor.

The uncertainty lingers, but for all his doubt, he _does_ miss her. A warm light seeps through the entry, inviting and kind, and he steps over the threshold.

———

There are blinking lights dotted in the distance, streaking across the space, haltingly bright. He squints, hand over his brow, as a figure comes forward.

He hadn’t seen in her in so many years. When he had thought of her, he had remembered her as some mythic figure. Princess Leia. General Organa. Too far away, too important to the galaxy to merely be his mother.

But seeing her off in the distance takes him aback. She is so much smaller than he remembers.

The wry tone she greets him with, however, is familiar. “Are you going to just stand there, or do I get the privilege of seeing you as well?”

He towers over her now, but his mother did always have an uncanny ability to make him feel ten years old again. As he walks towards her, her eyes rove over him, alight in familiar way.

He wonders what he could possibly say to her now. How he could even continue to face her. Her son turned murderer, a leader of an order she had dedicated the last days of her life to defeat, a crushing disappointment and tragedy to the last. He half expects her to banish him from her sight, for her to turn her back on him for good.

Instead she says: “You grew like a tree.”

He can feel himself gaping at her, unable to speak for a moment. “ _That’s_ what you have to say now?”

She shrugs. “I don’t have any particular need for careful diplomacy in death. We’re all a bit more honest around here.”

“Still, it’s— I expected…something else.”

Her eyes carry the same glint of recognition, of understanding, for the words he can not give voice to. “There’s no need for that, especially not now.”

Didn’t she understand? Why did she stand there looking at him like that, as if she was proud?

“I didn’t do anything.” He looks away, remorse and shame tinging his voice. “I failed you, and everyone else. I’m the reason all of this happened, why you and dad are—”

“Ben,” she tuts, voice light.

He turns to look at her again.

“I named you after my last hope, you foolish boy,” she replies, undeterred and smiling now. “And you were. The galaxy would have no reason for joy without you and the choice you ultimately made.” she pauses for a moment, quiet. As if she may be just as overwhelmed by all this as he is. “I always wanted you to come back home. And I’m so, _so_ glad that I could finally see you once more. To see you become the man I knew you were.”

He imagines he must look stricken at that. He has no chance at stopping the rapid-fire thoughts tripping over his tongue.

“I wanted to forget it all. As if it had never happened.”

“Yes.”

“Whatever we do now, we can’t go back.”

“No.”

They regard each other in silence for a moment. After a while, heart aching with the weight of it all, he bows his head.

She gently smooths his hair, fingers feather light on his head.

“I know,” she says softly.

———

It seems like centuries have passed when he finally opens his eyes again. His mother is gone, but she had taken something with her. Some dark thing that had curled itself around his heart, weighing each step he took with an iron manacle. Yet something echoes back to him still, something that won’t allow him to rest here yet.

Anakin is there once more, smiling knowingly, as if he can hear his thoughts.

“Well Ben? Are you ready?”

He has a promise to keep, after all.

He nods. “I know what I have to do.”

As if summoned, Rey’s voice pierces through the fog like a blade, as light, warm and iridescent, envelops the space around him. Her words call to him like a murmured melody, beckoning him forward. The shroud of death lifting from him as his hand stretches out.

_Be with me, be with me, be with me._

He answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, this chapter takes place around the same period as the first one! Initially I was planning to stick with Rey dealing with the TRoS aftermath and then their reunion, but the more I wrote about Ben, the more I realized how unfulfilled I felt about his arc resolution. I really wish we could have had an expanded take on him facing his ghosts and being given some sort of peace from the family that apparently ditched him for Rey in the movie. So this part just sort of turned into Ben walking around and having some conversations.
> 
> I’m planning one more chapter for the reunion that has been teased twice now :)


	3. remeant

_**remeant** \- Re´me`ant |_

_coming back; returning_

* * *

He stands before her like a dream.

His eyes are wide and stunned in a manner certainly mirroring hers. She had hoped, and wished, and reached out with all her might, and yet Jakku had taught her that this galaxy was not kind to girls who held on too long to impossible dreams, had it not?

But his hand is still so warm around hers, and it is his touch, his thumb running along her skin that finally breaks the spell. Her face crumbles, and it is like a dam breaking as the first tears in months spill forth, something jagged in her gasps as she weeps before him.

Startled at the sigh, he gently tugs her forward with the hand still grasping hers. His voice is low, urgent. "Rey, sweetheart, please—"

She silences his panicked, disjointed words in one breath, rushing forward to cling to him, her fingers tracing the hair at the back of his neck. His arms wrap around her in turn. He is so warm, so solid—she never wants to let him go again.

The rush of feeling between her ribs is a heady thing as it fills up the empty space that had been barren for months. _The bond_ , she realizes. The soft glow of light, with all its longing and incredulous joy, is coming from them both.

Eventually, she finds her voice again. A lifetime of isolation had not taught her any pretty oratorical skills, but she concentrates, trying to fit the enormity of her feelings into coherent thought. She wants him to understand, she wants to find just the right words to tell him.

"Ben, I... I missed you _so_ much. Everyday since Exegol I thought about how close we came to having everything, and then you were gone and I was still here, trying to find some kind of peace. I owed you that much at least. But it felt so wrong without you by my side." She pauses and draws back a bit to look at him.

His face looks just as it did before, intent on hearing her every word, his eyes so gentle and kind. She can't help but lay her hand upon his cheek.

"And I wanted to tell you then—I _should have_ told you then, but I thought we had so much more time left."

Her heart is beating so quickly now. Surely he must hear the words glimmering across her thoughts, but he doesn't rush her. His hand is light against the back of her neck.

"Tell me what?"

"I love you," she whispers.

He smiles then, wide, alight in a way she had only seen seconds before he was snatched away from her. _His smile is beautiful,_ she thinks, _I wish I could see it everyday._ She wants to press the memory of it into her skin, to tattoo it somewhere so far in her that she will never lose the feeling of it beneath her fingertips.

This time he pulls her in, capturing her in a kiss. Somehow, the rush of it is even more wondrous than the first and she sinks into it, completely willing to lose herself in his embrace. His thoughts and hers weave together, and she can not begin to tangle them apart, so she allows the melodious waves of it all to consume them entirely.

When they break apart for air, eyes blinking with light, he murmurs it back to her. "I love you too."

Once, when Rey was still a little girl, newly abandoned and still naive to the harsh tricks of the desert, she had foolishly ventured out at high noon to search for spare parts to barter with. Unaccustomed to the blistering heat of the desert, she had chosen a solitary set of ship ruins to rest at and slowly drifted to sleep out there amongst the hot plains. And in that warm slumber, she had dreamed of someone coming back for her, someone gathering her in their arms and finally understanding her completely—

In those blissful few seconds before fully waking, she had felt such unrestrained, wild joy that she could have happily died in that moment.

She feels it again now, in Ben Solo's arms. _But_ _it won't last_ , a traitorous voice whispers to her. It had hurt all that much more waking up alone in those ruins, parched and utterly lost.

She shuts her eyes almost painfully tightly. She doesn't want to look, doesn't want to see him vanish before her again. If she could just hold onto these last moments, and freeze them forever—

"Rey." She has never known such a story could be woven in her name alone, but Ben's voice, in all its gentleness, beckons her to open her eyes.

He'shere _. He's still here._

She blinks back the new tears gathering as he brushes the tendrils of hair from her face.

"You called me back." Their smiles are tremulous as they rest their foreheads against each other. "Do you think I could ever stand to leave you again?"

This second life, it seems, will be infinitely kinder to them than the first ever was.

———

They wander through the land surrounding the Skywalker home, hand in hand, neither quite willing to let the other go just yet. The atmosphere is infinitely lighter than it was before, as the heavy weight of disbelief has faded into contentment.

But it is not long before Ben's movements become slower, and his eyes squint ever more narrowly across the sandy horizon. His gaze is so focused he almost ends up tripping over a spare piece of sheet metal peeking through the sand below until Rey tugs him back.

"This place," he declares with an imperious sniff, "is a junkyard."

It is difficult to stifle her smile.

"An absurdly warm one," he continues, impervious to her delight, "with entirely too much sand."

Her grin breaks through, unable to resist anymore.

"That's what you get for wearing black all the time, your highness."

He turns to look at her, exasperation written all over his face, but his eyes quickly rove over _her_ outfit and narrow as he tugs her closer, startling her with the movement.

"Interesting complaint. I wonder where you found this particular garment." His lips quirk up at the sight, as his fingers trail his dark, oversized shirt draped over her.

She begins to tug at it when he runs a hand along her arm, settling her. "Leave it on. It looks better on you."

Her face feel warmer suddenly as her traitorous heart beats a little faster. "I didn't imagine you to be a flirt."

"Only for you."

There is no doubt she's blushing now, and buries her face in his shoulder. He drops a kiss to the top of her head in response.

They remain close for a moment, before Ben seems to remember his previous train of thought.

"Why did you come here?" he asks, curious. "I thought you would have gone somewhere more… green."

"I didn't really mean to, it was more like I was led here," she admits, stepping away from his shoulder.

"Were you looking for something?"

Her mouth twists, considering his question. She had been, hadn't she? She settles with the simplest summary of her jumbled thoughts.

"Answers."

His eyes are lingering on her in that gentle way again when she looks back up at him. She wonders if it will always make her heart catch like it does.

"And did you find any?"

A memory trickles in slowly at his words.

_It had been weeks since Exegol, but the the fallout of it had continued to fester within her like an untreated wound, and she had sequestered herself within the desert. It had also been weeks since she had last spoken to anything but a droid and her old brusque, solitary habits had been taking hold again. So when an old woman had passed through asking her questions, to say she had been startled would have been an understatement. Though she had probably scared the woman back a thousand fold by quickly raising her staff with teeth bared, only to sheepishly lower it when she saw who it was._

_Eventually satisfied that the lady was not a threat, she had greeted her in turn. That, it seemed, had been enough to begin quizzing her on her identity._

_"I haven't seen you around these parts before. Who are you?"_

_"I'm Rey."_

_"Rey who?" Her tone had seemed almost comically suspicious._

_Rey's first thought had been that she was awfully nosy about a person who had almost lopped her head off upon meeting her._

("You do seem to have that effect on people."

She pokes him, only prompting his grin to widen. "Well if people would just learn to introduce themselves _properly_ …")

_Her second had been to actually consider the question laid before her. Just who was she after all this? Rey the Jedi? Rey of Nowhere? Orphan, scavenger, a girl who had come from nothing but what she had fiercely held onto with all her might._

_She had considered the names left behind._

_Skywalker, Organa. They were the names of titans, of legends, of people whose stories she had been privileged or destined to be a part of, if only for a little while. But they did not belong to her and neither had felt quite right to even borrow. And Solo? Well, that one had still hurt too much to think about._

_And then she had remembered her own admission, her own realization after crawling out of that cavern on Ahch-To. No one from her past was going to return with a legacy to hand to her or any acknowledgement that all those years had been spent waiting for what she thought. She had her own legacy to build, and perhaps one day she would see it completed into something she could look upon with pride. And so, let it be:_

_"Just Rey."_

She blinks the memory back, eyes a bit wider in recognition of something. Ben's grasp keeps her grounded as the realization sinks in.

"I think maybe I did."

———

Eventually taking pity on his dear, nearly sun red face, Rey leads them to the shade of the Japor tree. Part of her is content to remain sitting there with him in the silence, but her own questions have been burning a hole on her tongue, and finally she can't hold back any longer.

"Ben?"

"Hm?"

"Did you see anyone in that place?"

The smile fades from his face.

"We don't have to talk about it," she finishes hurriedly, suddenly a bit ashamed of her curiosity. But he shakes his head slightly.

"No, we should. I have to remember it, even if there are parts I'd rather not."

He goes quiet again, staring off somewhere beyond her. She moves to rest her hand atop his upturned one and squeezes. Though she can't exorcise his ghosts or wipe the slate clean, she can at least give him this. It's a reminder, a promise— _I'm here, I'll never leave you either._ He squeezes back.

"Tell me?"

So he does. He tells her of all the things he saw in that place. The doors, the paths, the glimpses of everything in and around his life. The possibility that forgiveness, for himself, for his family, was perhaps not such an impossible thought. And she listens, her hand in his, as dusk darkens the sky above them in a muted blue and orange haze.

———

With nightfall approaching, her body seems to recognize the hours past even if her mind does not. A yawn comes, unbidden. He raises an eyebrow at that, suddenly so reminiscent of the regal, unimpressed looks Leia would bestow upon rash new recruits.

"I think I'm boring you now."

She shakes her head quickly. "No! It's just that..." she quiets as she notices the smile playing about his lips.

"You're teasing me!"

"Maybe a little."

She flushes a bit, admittedly half at the sight of his smile and starts to rise from their resting place. "Well you're clearly feeling better so…" she trails off lamely.

He places a hand at the small of her back, lightly nudging her forward.

"Come to bed, sweetheart."

Her hearts beats a little faster as he leads her inside and to the bedroom she had been staying in. Once they reach the room, she raises her hands to the back of her head to remove the ties, but pauses when she notices Ben looking at her, a question clearly hanging on his lips.

His hands move tentatively towards her head.

"May I?" he asks. She nods and lowers her own, waiting.

His hands ghost over her hair, before moving towards the buns and loosening them. One, then two, and three. His fingers gently thread through the waves, letting them flow down. She almost starts to tell him he needn't be so careful with her, it's just hair, the same that she has hurriedly gathered up each day, as roughly as need be—but the words catch in her throat. It had been an automatic routine for so long, some visible marker for her family to find her, though she knew them to be long dead and buried. Like a child clinging to a threadbare doll out of habit rather than any remaining affection.

But she was no longer a child, she hadn't been one for so long now.

He strokes the loose wisps of hair at her temple as if he can hear her thoughts, and she leans into his touch. There is something reverent and healing in the gesture, and though he can no more erase her past than she can his, they can continue to step forward together, making the future something wholly better.

The year before he had been taken from her had been fraught with so many missteps and bitter misgivings, the ever stinging cry lingering in the back of her mind— _don't go this way, come back._

And then, standing alone in that Sith temple, so frozen in the terror of that place and the choice laid before her—

_I'm with you now, don't be afraid._

What a pair they had made, wonderstruck, a mere breath away from death. But how could she have feared anything when he was looking at her like that? His hand brushing over hers across their bond, lightly, full of certainty. There had been no words to temper the spell, only his gaze, almost shining, just for her.

Thankfully the memory no longer feels like a thorn digging into a wound. With Ben by her side once more, she can let herself remember it with happiness.

Sleep is pulling her under quickly, but as she nestles in, she sees him start to rise away from her. He is stopped only by her fingers quickly grasping onto his own, pulling him back. "Where are you going?"

"I saw a couch in the other room."

She frowns a little, suddenly unsure of herself. "Don't you want to stay with me?"

Now _he_ almost seems shy. "I didn't want to presume."

"But, do you want to stay?"

"I— of course, but—"

"Ben Solo, I didn't yank you out from the netherworld—or whatever that place really was—for you to go wander off in search of a couch when there is a perfectly good bed right here. And _I_ want you to stay too."

He huffs out a quiet laugh. "Alright."

She shifts over to her usual corner to allow him space to join her. He moves slowly at first, as if waiting for her to change her mind, but she just tugs his hand more emphatically. Finally getting the message, he lies down beside her, his arm draping over her as she burrows into his side. The bed had always seemed so large, almost vast in its emptiness when it had only been her. But Ben consumes the space around him, his tall frame almost hanging off of it until they wrap themselves around each other. She feels protected, cherished, in a way she had only imagined in her most fanciful dreams.

And now, under its watchful gaze, the night is no longer the fearsome, lonely specter darkening their dreams to nightmares. There is only Ben and Rey.

Together they dream of the future, ever lit in beautiful possibility.

———

She wakes slowly, feeling rested for the first time in months, tangled up in Ben's arms. Savoring the soft sounds of his breath, she tilts her head up. It seems he senses her gaze upon him, because he blinks awake not long after.

"Ben, I—"

"I saw it too."

The morning light drifts in as they smile at each other.

And later, when he offers her his hand once more, asking if she will let him take her from this place, she does not hesitate one moment in accepting.

Hands clasped tightly, they run wildly towards the ship with sand kicking up beneath their feet. There is nothing holding back their laughter now, with years being lifted from their shoulders as they race towards the future they had both dreamt of.

———

It takes a bit of bargaining in her call with Poe to allow the Resistance to look the other way while they traverse from planet to planet, but Finn and Rose chirp into the conversation briefly, saying something she can't quite catch, and he finally acquiesces.

And so they travel. Ben takes her to all the places he has been to, all the planets she had envisioned in dreams. He tells her quietly, of the planets that no longer exist except in memories. She holds each moment, precious as it is, close to her where she may marvel at it with each passing day.

But her favorite place, by far, is the one they have just landed on. Naboo may just be the most beautiful world Rey has ever seen.

The planet is absolutely drenched in life, each piece of it lush with flowers, and water, and so much green. She remembers then, what Ben had told her of his grandparents. How they had fallen in love and spent their happiest days in this paradise. He must remember it too, from the thoughtful look on his face.

BB-8 chirps behind them, breaking their reverie for a moment and Rey takes the opportunity to grab his hand and tug him down the ramp.

When they reach the lake, glittering against the soft light of dawn, he looks down at her. Her eyes are wide for a moment, drinking in the scene before her, before she closes them again. Her breath is quiet, content in the peace surrounding them.

Then she looks back up at him, beaming as she does so often now. Her smile, still wondrous, still beautiful—it feels like hope. He threads their fingers together and holds fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then they had a big family, found a school to teach other Force-sensitive children in the galaxy about how to control and wield their abilities without the fear and mistakes Luke had carried with him, and spent the rest of their days together and happy. Because breaking news, I’m soft and these two deserved it all.
> 
> Anyway here it is, reunion and conclusion in all its saccharine sweetness. Writing this was cathartic and helped me feel a bit less emo about this trilogy. I hope you enjoyed the ride as well!

**Author's Note:**

> This ship now has both Hades/Persephone and Orpheus/Eurydice vibes and was subjected to a corporations’s merciless, nonsensical machinations, so was there even a choice in writing this? I don’t even know what that movie was, and so I, like a thousand others before me, offer my contributions to the cause. 
> 
> The title is from Galway Kinnell and Hannah Liebmann’s translation of Rainer Maria Rilke’s poem “Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] a lament-heaven of disordered stars, this one so loved](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577251) by [MavenMorozova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MavenMorozova/pseuds/MavenMorozova)




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